Hazelstar said his prayers, then Twigfall stepped up.
“Now is the time,” the medicine cat commenced, his voice level rising with each word, “that I reveal the reason for this tom’s tragic death.”
Twigfall bowed his head, as did the rest of the Clan. To be polite, Acornkit ducked down as well.
“I inspected the body- quite a sight I found. A hard- hard as rock in RiverClan territory- lump sitting like a lazy apprentice in his stomach.”
Acornkit shivered at the comparisons to the nasty bump.
“It appeared the clump was very bad- a death factor. This must have built up inside Moorfur until it killed him- just like a swipe at the neck of a cat.”
Dovecry sniffed loudly, but it wasn’t a disdainful sniff- an unhappy, depressed sniff. Sad.
“Very interesting,” Acornkit heard Hazelstar meow to himself while Twigfall took his turn to say bye to Moorfur.
Just then the elder Rabbitrace yelled for the crowd to hear, “My brother- Creektrickle, his name was- died from something just like it. He always complained of a pain in his belly before his death at such a young age. Refused to see the medicine cat for it, though.”
Twigfall pricked his ears and replied to the old tom, “Ah, my mentor? I doubt Drystream could have cured it if I couldn’t have for Moorfur.”
Rabbitrace shrugged and fixed his virtually blind gaze on the tabby. “I thought he was experienced, as are you.” The brown-spotted tom took a moment to stretch, then added, “Neither of you knew so, ah... what the point of this conversation ‘gain?”
Acornkit bit his lip. This meant his father could have been forcing back the hurting, nagging mass in his belly. Had he gone to Twigfall would things have turned out different?
***
A half-moon later, when by now Moorfur’s body, resting deep in the earth, was being eaten by maggots, Acornkit’s life changed forever.
On a day when he was bored, Thornpad was out patrolling, and Fastkit had a minor cold, tree-climbing seemed like the best idea.
Acornkit gazed up at the great tall tree. It looked like it reached the sky, it was so huge!
This tree was a loner among the moors. Any cat up there could be seen easily- unless they had a black or brown pelt to blend in, of course!
This Acornkit was glad for. Licking his dusty, acorn-colored fur smooth, the tom-kit started the climb by digging his little stubs of claws into the tree bark. One paw here, the other there.... soon, Acornkit was a fox-length off the ground. For an almost-apprentice, it didn’t seem like such a colossal fall if he were to slip anymore, so Acornkit had nothing to fear. That’s what he thought, at least.
As he climbed up further and further, Acornkit thought he saw something dark gray up in the trees. Suspecting it was just a squirrel or bird of some sort, he continued on. But then Acornkit saw pointy ears perking up out of the head of the animal. Acornkit squinted and almost fell off the tree in surprise. Morningkit was stuck up in the tree’s grabbing branches, mewling nervously for help! But the four-moon-old she-kit wasn’t being loud enough. “I’m coming, Morningkit!” Acornkit called upwards, just to calm her. By now he was closer to her than the camp below that only she could hear him.
No comments:
Post a Comment